Chad tore down the Jenkins family’s cozy white farmhouse, removing every old board, and constructed a lavish residence that looked like it belonged on the cover of an architectural magazine.

It featured two high stories of smooth charcoal siding, bold black window frames, and an oversized three car garage with a pristine basketball hoop that nobody ever used.

The front lawn was so dark green and perfectly trimmed that it almost looked artificial.

Then there was the deck.

It was a massive wraparound structure on the upper floor that looked directly over Dad’s low wooden fence, offering an unobstructed view of the corn, beans, tomatoes, and potatoes below.

I drove out to Dad’s house almost every Sunday morning to share a pot of coffee and check in on him, as any daughter does when her elderly father lives alone.